


Musings of a Hand-Puppet Penguin

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-28
Updated: 2002-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I decided to look into the furry heart of one of Red Dwarf's best-loved guest stars, Mr. Flibble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musings of a Hand-Puppet Penguin

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Flibble and all other Red Dwarf characters belong to exactly the same freakin' people they do every time I write a disclaimer for them, and they are Grant Naylor.

HOLOGRAM ACTIVATED

HOLOGRAM ACTIVATED

HOLOGRAM ACTIVATED

You know what the worst thing is about being a penguin puppet with Hex Vision? No eye drops. My eyes are _burning_. This job isn't all it's cracked up to be.

No, it's not having a hand constantly stuck up your bum, either. Some people think that puppets actually care about things like that. Are they crazy?

I am approached by the kooky one, the guy in the gingham dress and army boots, to be his mascot or sidekick. The first thing I think when I see him is: this guy's sick. The second thing I think is: he'd look better as a brunette. Those plaits just don't go with the rest of the outfit.

Unaware that I already have a name -- a nice, sensible name -- he dubs me 'Mr. Flibble', which sticks. I won't tell you my real name. I don't want to confuse the issue. Let's just say it's a lot more dignified than 'Flibble'.

Oh, he thinks he invented me, by the way. He didn't. I'm really me.

Anyway, he wants to go hunting for his crewmates, which is fine. He keeps talking to me as we rove around trying to find them, which would be fine if he'd let me reply to any of his inane questions. Well, not that I know the capital of Bolivia anyway, but I can barely get my beak open before he starts babbling again.

We manage to track his friends down just outside Quarantine, which is a little confusing, since you'd think he'd've gone straight there, given that he was the one who'd locked them in. Apparently he's 'forgotten'. However, that isn't my problem. My problem comes next.

He lifts me up and starts talking to me - and for me -- and mentions this 'Hex Vision' thing. _What?_ I think. _Never heard of it..._ At least, I haven't until my eyes suddenly feel like they are on fire and shoot out these laserish bolts of light -- Hex-bolts, I presume. The others turn and run, and Gingham lets them go. Alright, _Rimmer_. I've only just heard his name. It's not my fault.

They run off, and we end up tracking them all the way to the cargo bay. By this time, Rimmer is letting me get the odd word in edgeways. Ha. Such a benefit. He is clearly convinced that he is hallucinating and is still talking for me himself, though why he'd call himself a bozo is beyond me. Besides, can't he tell the difference? My voice is so much deeper and sexier, not like the high-pitched squeak he's appropriated for me at all.

That Hex Vision still hurts when he gets me to melt through the door with it, but not quite so badly. His 'friends' are there, looking terrified, and take off down the corridor as I try to Hex them again. Cowards. Together, Rimmer and I prowl through the cargo bay, following them, but taking our own sweet time about it.

They are in the middle of the corridor when we catch up to them again. He makes me go first, the bastard. If I'd had my head blown off, I'd be quite displeased.

The mechanoid's holding something. As Rimmer says, 'Mr. Flibble says: Game over, boys', he switches it...

HOLOGRAM TERMINATED

HOLOGRAM TERMINATED

HOLOGRAM TERMINATED


End file.
